


Volatile

by practicallywritesitself



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beards (Relationships), Canon Era, Everyone Is Gay, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, Unrequited, it’s tagged as teen for some mild language, these dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/practicallywritesitself/pseuds/practicallywritesitself
Summary: “He should have been mad at Jack — should have been angry with him for leaving without so much as a goodbye. But David Jacobs could never stay mad at Jack Kelley, no matter how many times he lied, closed himself off, or broke Davey’s heart. The facts of the matter were plain and simple — Davey could not be mad at Jack, because Davey was hopelessly, desperately in love with him. And, of course, that was not simple at all.”In which David Jacobs, expert in denial, is finally forced to confront his emotions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a combination of 1992sies and the stage production. takes place during the last scene of the movie, with the second part continuing in a post-canon, more broadway-version sort of setting. plus a flashback to the iconic alley scene. katherine exists here. enjoy!

The strike was over, the headline stunk, and Davey was finally back on the job.

He shuffled through the crowd of Newsies, grinning sheepishly at the boys who clapped his back or cheered for him. He tried to seem the part of triumphant Union leader, but in reality, all he could really focus on was the absence of a certain smug presence beside him as he reached the counter and laid down his dime. 

Davey counted his papes quietly, ignoring the continued uproar of the boys surrounding him. Groaning quietly, he picked his head up.

Barreling through the gates was the Governor’s Carriage, and riding inside was Jack Kelley.

Davey’s heart practically leaped out of his chest.

He should have been mad at Jack — should have been angry with him for leaving without so much as a goodbye. But David Jacobs could never stay mad at Jack Kelley, no matter how many times he lied, closed himself off, or broke Davey’s heart. The facts of the matter were plain and simple — Davey could not be mad at Jack, because Davey was hopelessly, desperately in love with him.

And, of course, that was not simple at all.

It was one thing to be in love with your best friend — it was another story altogether when your best friend happened to be another boy. Another boy in a world where loving other boys was unheard of, where loving other boys was forbidden and dirty. Another boy who practically glowed like the Santa Fe sun on a gloomy New York day. Another boy who, no matter how hard Davey tried to suppress it, kept sneaking up on him at the worst possible moments — when he was studying, when he was hawking, when he was laying in bed trying with all his might to just _stop thinking_ , to go to sleep and wake up and feel the way he knew he should feel towards this boy. But trying to ignore them only made the feelings worse, and as Davey watched Jack hop out of the carriage, he decided a few unclean thoughts never hurt anybody.

Smothering the grin slowly spreading across his face in spite of himself, Davey propped his papers on his shoulder and sauntered down the stairs and into the throng of the crowd. The Newsies parted for him, allowing him his first good look of Jack since the end of the strike. He was standing tall, almost cocky, with his chest puffed out and his signature smirk dancing across his lips. He watched as Jack ruffled Les’s hair fondly, and as he gave Crutchie a light shove, and as he pulled Katherine into a quick hug. And then Davey watched as Jack’s eyes — those piercing grey eyes — turned to meet his. He could’ve sworn he saw them soften, but Davey quickly chalked that up to his own hopeless romanticism.

And then Jack was talking, and to him: “So, Dave, how’s the headline?”

Davey chuckled quietly. He pulled his hat out of his back pocket and stuffed it onto his head. “Headlines don’t sell papes, Jack,” he said, “Newsies sell papes.”

Jack’s grin widened, and the crowd let out another roar. Davey closed the distance between the two, handing his papers to Crutchie. Jack stuck his hand out, never taking his eyes off Davey’s. Davey remembered that first day they had met — when Jack had practically demanded he and Les shadow him. Davey bit his lip to keep from smiling, and spat into his palm before taking Jack’s into his own.

The boys hollered, and Jack raised an eyebrow, his amused smirk betraying his facade of coolness. Their hands stayed clasped for a moment too long — Davey must have been imagining it, but Jack seemed to be grappling to say something. His mouth opened and closed, and he kept shifting his eyes, as if he wished he was somewhere else.

Just when it seemed Jack could hold it in no longer, Sarah pushed her way between the two. Their hands broke apart, and Davey felt his cheeks grow warm — from the Jack’s touch or animosity towards his sister, Davey couldn’t decide.

Davey met Jack’s eyes one more time, and then Jack turned away and promptly stuck his lips onto Sarah’s.

The world fell away. It was just Davey, and next to Davey, in a completely different dimension, was Jack and Sarah, an entity unto itself. Davey was alone, apart, and it struck him suddenly — this was the way it would always be. He hadn’t considered it before, had been so clueless as to believe that, even if Jack didn’t feel the same way, it would still be he and Dave against the world, no complications.

Love truly made Davey a fool.

He played along, laughing and smiling and allowing Jack to pull him into the group hug that was forming. He rolled his eyes playfully as Jack stuck his hat onto Les’ head, and he took Sarah’s hand when she held it out to him. He let Jack wind an arm around his shoulder.

All the while Davey felt like he was going to be sick.

The group marched out of the World premises, Les skipping ahead as Jack, Davey, and Sarah led the Newsies into the Square. Directly behind them, Katherine was firing questions, pen in hand, at the Governor himself, having weaseled herself, Spot, and Racetrack into a ride in the carriage to Brooklyn.

Jack still had an arm around Davey, and Davey was painfully aware of that fact. The bare skin of his neck where Jack touched was prickling, sending chills down his spine every time they shifted a bit — which, unfortunately, was every time they took a step.

Jack was talking to Sarah, and when Davey turned his head slightly, he could just see Jack’s profile: dimpled cheeks and a crooked smile. He blushed slightly, and immediately turned away, refusing to let his eyes stray any further than a millimeter into his peripheral.

As they were passing the looming statue of Horace Greeley, Jack’s personal role model, Davey felt Jack’s arm shift and heard his voice in his ear. Two simple words were whispered:

‘Rooftop. Tonight.’

Davey’s heart dropped. He knew what this meant. Jack had taken notice of Davey’s infatuation, had detected Davey’s long glances and longing stares. Davey recalled the moment he had realized his feelings for Jack went deeper than friendship.

_Jack’s hand was on his chest, keeping him pinned against the wall. The front of his shirt was bunched in Jack’s fist, and Davey had the faraway thought that his mother would be angry with him for wrinkling it._

_“Jail, Dave,” Jack was saying. His eyes were wide, and though Davey knew he was trying to threaten him, there was more fear in them than anything. “You don’t know a thing about jail.”_

_“I don’t understand,” Davey said._

_Jack paused. His grey eyes searched Davey’s blue, and he looked vulnerable, as if the conversation was volatile. Behind his irises lie indecision and anxiety, and a rush of emotion Davey couldn’t quite identify washed over him._

_“I don’t understand either, but you’ve gotta go!” Jack let go over Davey suddenly, and Davey slumped forward, catching himself before he went crashing to the ground._

_Davey quickly straightened, rubbing his chest against the change in pressure. He looked up, but Jack was refusing to look at him._

_It took Davey a moment to realize that he wasn’t angry at Jack — no, quite the opposite. He wanted more than anything to reach out and touch him, to quell some of the darkness he knew was swirling around his head._

_But those feelings terrified Davey, so he turned and ran before he did something he would regret._

Davey tried his hardest to forget the encounter, but it haunted him. There was something inside him that confused him; he had never felt like this before. All clammy hands and a pained chest, like he had been running a race that just wouldn’t end.

He was laying awake in the middle of the night when he realized with sudden certainty that he was so far gone for Jack Kelley that he would be willing to go to jail for him, even if it meant hurting his family. Because that’s how important Jack was to him.

Shaking himself out of his reminiscence, Davey managed to slather on a closed-lipped smile and nodded.

He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and kept stomping forward.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack’s penthouse had always been Davey’s favorite location in the city — beating out even the Central Park Zoo. He could see everything from up there, from the towering Washington Square Arch all the way to the glimmering Harbor. He and Jack spent hours laying on their backs, too, teaching each other the constellations and talking about everything and nothing all at once.

Davey had the sinking suspicion that they wouldn’t be doing much of that tonight.

He was in for a soaking, he was sure — there was no way Jack would let him walk home scot-free after learning his darkest secret. It had taken Davey so long to come to terms with his feelings for Jack, and now they’d be beaten to a pulp, ridiculed and mocked and spat on.

He had considered standing Jack up; Davey would have greatly preferred to stay home with a nice book and a cup of tea than drag himself through back alleys, bleeding and heavily bruised. But he dismissed the idea quickly — though he despised himself for it, Davey had long ago resigned himself to the fact that he would do absolutely anything for Jack Kelley, even if that something was allowing the man himself to beat him senseless.

Taking note of his racing heartbeat, Davey took a deep breath and hauled himself over the top of the ladder, immediately greeted by his favorite view of the city and the sight of Jack with his legs over the side of the building, cigarette between his teeth and arms sitting atop the railing, the moon silhouetted so perfectly behind his head that it seemed as if it were encased in a halo.

And, God, if that didn’t make Davey’s heart beat even faster.

He attempted to clear his throat, but all that came out was an embarrassing tweet. Jack swiveled around, immediately meeting Davey’s eyes. He took the cigarette out and grinned, cocking his head in invitation.

Davey obliged, picking his way over to plop down next to Jack. He was less willing to ensconce himself so close to the edge, so he instead sat behind the railing with his legs crossed.

Jack flicked the cigarette, allowing the ash and spark to drift its way down to the ground far below. Davey watched, entranced, until the pinprick light was so minuscule that he couldn’t make it out it any longer.

“So,” Jack said finally, “that was one hell of a strike.”

Davey released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Was it possible that Jack hadn’t perceived Davey’s sentiments? If so, perhaps Davey could leave without personal injury and with the retention of his best friend. He could pretend to be a normal boy for one night if it meant keeping Jack in his life. “One hell of a strike,” he repeated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corner of Jack’s mouth lift. “Did you see the look on Morris’s face? Poor guy looked like he was calculating all the ways he could weasel himself into the Union.”

“Unfortunately for him, we all know how little capacity he has for forming ideas,” Davey heard himself saying.

And then Jack laughed, and everything went to absolute hell, because Davey suddenly remembered just how head over heels he was for the boy sitting next to him.

He made the mistake of looking at Jack, and was once again enamored by everything about him. He could feel himself getting lost in the moment. Everything about Jack was just...perfect. His profile was pristine — rough edges and sharp lines and high cheekbones that were slightly flushed from the August heat. His eyes were downcast, just so that the tips of his bottom lashes brushed his cheeks. His lips — soft and pink and only a little chapped — were curved serenely, a smile so natural and so easy that it made Davey’s chest positively ache.

Jack turned his head, catching Davey red-handed. Davey tried to look away — he really did — but stars above, it really should have been _illegal_ for a boy to be so damned beautiful.

“What are you staring at?” Jack asked, and though Davey had the distinct impression that it had been posed as a joke, it came out as no more than a whisper.

They were close, far too close for it to have been proper, really, and Davey’s head was spinning from it. His knee was pressed against the outside of Jack’s thigh, their knuckles brushed, and, Davey noticed with a vague sense of alarm, their faces were mere inches from each other. He could feel Jack’s breath. He took notice when Jack’s eyes flickered to his mouth.

Maybe it was one of these things, maybe it was a combination — whatever it was that possessed Davey to blurt out, “You’re the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen,” — Davey immediately wanted to rip all his hair out and throw himself off the roof.

Jack’s mouth formed an ‘ _o_ ’, and he was so still that Davey almost believed he hadn’t heard him. But Jack’s cheeks were steadily growing redder, and every second or so, his fingers would twitch so violently that Davey was afraid he was going into some sort of shock.

“God, I — I didn’t mean —“ Davey sputtered, not knowing what to do. Jack was gaping at him, his expression not betraying whatever he was thinking. Davey’s senses finally returned to him, and he scrambled to get up, nearly toppling over the railing in his haste to get as far away from Jack as he could.

He was halfway onto his feet when Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, forcing Davey to look at him.

Jack’s expression was clearer now. His eyes bore straight into Davey’s, his mouth was set in a firm line. His countenance set forth a single message: grim determination.

Davey gulped. He tore his eyes away for a moment, but Jack squeezed his arm, and he regarded him again. Davey could feel his face heating up, and though he knew he could get out of Jack’s grip if he really wanted to, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for Jack to react.

They stayed that way for a while, the moment charged and electrified and in desperate need of disarmament, until Jack’s face fell. 


	3. Chapter 3

The tension exploded into a whirlwind of static energy.

With a muttered, “Screw it,” Jack closed the gap between them and suddenly all Davey knew was that Jack’s mouth was on his and _Good Lord, I’m kissing Jack Kelley._

And though he knew it was utterly cliché, all Davey could process was that Jack kissed the way he spoke, the way he lived: impossibly sure and endlessly experienced, calm and frantic at the same time and as though it were the most crucial thing in the world. It was slow and poised and self-assured, so very Jack Kelley in grace and style.

It was over too quickly. David’s lips followed Jack as the latter pulled away, pushing Davey back slightly. And though he was somewhat embarrassed to admit to that fact, Davey was just so tired of pretending he wasn’t so utterly in love with Jack that he wouldn’t give all the stars and the skies for a taste of his affection.

Jack turned away, looking over the city skyline with glossy eyes. He sighed quietly, and then he laughed, throwing his head down.

“God, Dave,” he said finally, his voice rough, “you really have no idea what you do to me.”

He looked back, and Davey was frozen under his gaze. Jack shook his head.

“You gotta let me know what you’re thinking right now, Dave. I can’t just go kissing you and then head right back downstairs without hearing what you’ve got to say about it.”

“I—“ Davey cleared his throat. “It was nice,” he said weakly.

Jack smiled. “So you didn’t mind it?”

Now, that — that got Davey’s attention. “Mind it?” he asked incredulously. “Jack...I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since I saw you stand up to Spot.”

Jack squinted, amused. “Took you that long, huh? I must’ve been off my game that first night.”

Davey actually giggled — _giggled!_ — he was so blithesome. But the glee faded away quickly.

“Jack,” he said, “what about Sarah?”

Jack looked confused for a moment — he blinked, mouth parted slightly. Then he laughed.

“Oh my God, I completely forgot,” he said, wiping a hand over his face. “The kiss.”

Indignation flared in David’s chest. Did Jack care so little about his sister that he completely forgot about her within the course of a day? “Yes, the kiss,” he snapped.

Jack held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, let me explain,” he said, tilting his chin. He lowered his hands. “She’s a beard,” he admitted.

“A — a what?”

“A beard,” Jack said again. “A coverup. I mean, I can’t just go around kissing boys, and people were growing a little too suspicious for my taste, so Sarah and I came to an agreement. People won’t ask too many questions if we’re walking around being all lovey-dovey in front of everyone, and the two of us won’t have to worry about constantly watching our backs.”

Davey held up a hand, not following. “The two of you?”

Jack stifled a smirk. “Sarah’s got her own secrets, I see.”

Davey wasn’t dense. He knew what Jack was insinuating. But it didn’t make any sense. Sarah had had several beaus in the past, and — as hard to accept as it had been initially — Davey actually prided himself on his ability to tell when people were...like him. But Sarah — it wasn’t possible.

“Think about it, Dave,” Jack said softly, taking Davey’s hand in his own.

And he did. In fact, his mind was moving faster than he could process, shuffling through all the signs. The times she slipped out at night, the anonymous letters he had discovered under her bed, the shared glances and whispered words between her and Katherine, the violets braided in her hair —

“Oh,” Davey squeaked.

“Oh,” Jack agreed. He flipped their hands over, rubbing his thumb over the top of Davey’s fingers. “It’s not just them, either — her and Kath, I mean,” he continued. “A lot of the boys in the house are...you know. Like us. They haven’t said it, most of them, but I can tell. We can all tell. There are nights when Mush slips into Blink’s bed — get your head out of the gutter, Dave, it’s ‘cause Blink gets real emotional at night and Mush’s the only one who knows what really happened to him. Specs and Romeo can’t keep their hands off each other, I see them holding hands under the table at dinner when they think no one’s looking. And I’m sure you know what goes on between Spot and Race.”

Davey absolutely did not know what went on between Spot and Race, so he kept his head down and let Jack keep talking.

“C’mon, Dave, think about it. Spot’s the toughest fella we know, I’m betting. Doesn’t take anything from anyone. Soaks anyone who so much as steps foot onto the Brooklyn Bridge without his express permission. And he just lets Race sell on his turf day after day?” Jack snorted. “They’re the first ones who told me, actually. Racer was practically in tears, said he didn’t need my approval but wanted it real bad. ‘Course I gave it to him — would’ve been a bit of a hypocrite if I hadn’t, wouldn’t I?”

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Point is, Dave — David. The point is that it’s not too hard around here to keep up appearances. Hell, it’s not just the newsies, and it’s not just young people, neither. All across the city, there are men and women just like us, and they don’t plan on keeping quiet much longer. I’m telling you, Dave — one day soon, we’re not gonna have to hide no more.” He paused, squeezing Davey’s hand lightly.

“So what do you say, Dave?” he asked, voice low. “I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. Hell, I don’t even know if we’ll be able to make it work. But if you’re willing to try it...I am too.”

Davey finally met Jack’s eyes — they were bright and shining and brimming with hope.

It was that look that made Davey throw all caution to the wind.

“Yeah,” Davey said, his voice hardly a whisper. “Yeah, let’s do it, Jackie-boy.”

Jack beamed, and Davey knew he’d made the right decision.

This time, Davey kissed Jack, and it was every bit as magical and sanguine and perfectly imperfect as it had been the first time.

The strike was over, the stars were shining, and David Jacobs had a new purpose: never let go of Jack Kelley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was fun! i had posted this briefly earlier on so if it sounds familiar that’s probably why. hope you enjoyed — i know i did! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!!

**Author's Note:**

> previously posted on my tumblr, @practically-writes-itself; go check it out!


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